Death in Berlin (26 page)

‘About the Nazi couple who murdered their servants and got away with millions of pounds worth of diamonds?’

‘The Ridders. Yes. But it was not the Ridders who murdered their cook-housekeeper and valet. It was the cook and the valet - Karl and Greta Schumacher - who murdered the Ridders. They probably planned it for weeks beforehand. We shall never know about that, but the chances are that the building of the new garage and

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the lime pit at the bottom of the garden gave them the idea

‘On the night that Herr Ridder returns to Berlin with the diamonds he is killed by the Schumachers. Frau Ridder is probably already dead and her jewels, plus any other available loot, packed in a small suitcase. The Schumachers dress the bodies in some of their clothes - they were much of a size - making sure that a few identifiable metal objects are included with them for the purpose of identification; the buttons off the valet’s coat for instance, and his wristwatch, and a locket and chain and ring belonging to the cook, and one or two similar things that lime

would not destroy Greta Schumacher probably shaves Frau

Ridder’s head and chops off a hank of her own hair to bury with her, just in case.

‘Then they bury the bodies in quicklime, and make their getaway. Once the lime has destroyed the flesh that deformed hand of Frau Ridder’s will not show, since the bone formation was apparently normal. But even then the imposture might well have been discovered if it hadn’t been for the tremendous events that were taking place at the time. The British Army was in full retreat, Belgium suing for an armistice, and France crumbling to pieces. The authorities had a great many things on their hands in those days!’

Miranda said: ‘Brigadier Brindley said there was a child. Did they kill it too?’

‘No one knows. There seems to be no evidence to show that it was even in Berlin at the time. But its body was never found. I think myself that they may have taken it with them and that it died or was killed on the road, which is why they picked up a stray child as a substitute. They may have needed a child; it was probably part of the plan.’

Miranda said slowly: ‘Then it was the housekeeper - Frau Schumacher. How did they get away?’

‘I don’t suppose anyone will ever know that. The chauffeur may conceivably have been in the plot. Or they may have stuck a gun in his ribs, or had some convincing lie ready. They probably meant to get across Europe to Lisbon, and so to South America, but

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found that it was too dangerous and decided to try for England instead. I don’t suppose they ever realized you were British. You say the woman spoke to you in French, so the odds are that you answered her in the same language.’

Miranda nodded. ‘I expect so. I spoke more German and French than English in those days.’

‘Then that’s the answer. You were a stray child and they needed a child. But your chief attraction was undoubtedly the fact that you were clutching a large doll. What better way to smuggle out a lot of stolen valuables than for a child to carry them inside a toy?’

‘But the Dutch diamonds?’ said Miranda.

‘No one knows what they did with those, or even if they knew anything about them. They may not have done. The stuff they got away with was a sufficiently spectacular haul! Well, there you are. Some of that is guesswork, but there’s quite a bit of evidence to support it, and it all adds up. Do you mind if I smoke?’

Simon drew out a flat gold cigarette case and offered it to Miranda, who shook her head. He lit a cigarette himself and flicked the spent match out of the open window.

‘Go on,’ said Miranda impatiently. That isn’t all.’

‘You told me some of the rest yourself. Greta Schumacher was left behind when you and her husband escaped across the channel. Karl Schumacher died of double pneumonia, and no one connected a dying refugee with an obviously English child. The jewels and money were not found until some time later, and by the time their ownership was proved the trail was cold and there was nothing to connect the Ridders with you, or you with an unknown dead man: you apparently insisted that the doll was yours and that no one had touched it. In the end it was decided that the Ridders had at one time been among the refugee party, and had hidden the stuff there temporarily, meaning to retrieve it, but had probably been killed in an air raid. Various trails were followed up, but none of them led anywhere.’

Miranda said: ‘But Mademoiselle - Frau Schumacher? How did she What happened to her?’ f

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‘We haven’t got much of a line on her yet,’ confessed Simon. ‘But as far as can be made out she ended up in a prison camp where one of her cell mates was a Swiss woman called Beljame, who either died or was assisted to die, and Mademoiselle - Frau Schumacher - eventually turned up in England with her papers and calling herself by that name. She was, of course, looking for a husband and a child, and a doll stuffed with jewels. And also, possibly, a fortune in Dutch diamonds! She must have struck a trail at last, for your cousin Robert says she turned up on the doorstep one day with some story about having been told that they needed a governess-cum-household help.’

‘Supposing they hadn’t?’

‘Domestics were pretty rare in those days,’ said Simon. ‘She drew a card to an open straight and pulled it off.’

‘She did work well,’ said Miranda, slowly. ‘And they paid her so very little: that was the main reason why they kept her on.’

‘When did you first meet her-as Mademoiselle?’ asked Simon.

Miranda frowned, trying to think back. ‘Only about two years ago, I think. And then only for very brief intervals. I hardly spoke to her. I had a job in London and didn’t get to Mallow often. But I never liked her. She looked quite different - thin and old and black-haired. I couldn’t have recognized her. But she still ate caraway seeds, and I suppose, without knowing it, the smell of them must have reminded me of that awful time. It wasn’t until I started for Berlin that I really began to feel on edge and to feel

- oh, I don’t know!’

‘Aunt Hettyish?’ supplied Simon with a grin.

‘Yes!’ Miranda turned a surprised look on him. ‘How did you know that?’

‘You explained the expression to me once,’ said Simon. ‘I thought it very apt.’

‘Well, it’s true. I didn’t connect it with Mademoiselle. I only knew that for some reason or other I felt on edge and - and frightened. It was a horrid feeling. I suppose it came from being boxed up with her for so long, and my subconscious or something

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getting uneasy about it. But how could I be expected to guess at such a fantastic coincidence?’

‘It wasn’t a coincidence,’ said Simon. ‘It was a careful piece of planning by Mademoiselle Beljame, alias Greta Schumacher. But what we don’t know is why did she stick to the Melvilles after she found out that the jewels had gone? - which she must have done fairly soon. However, the chances are that the answer to that is quite simply because it was a job, and since she had nowhere else to go she might as well live that way as any other. It was what followed that was the fantastic coincidence. Your cousin Robert meets a man who had known his father, and asks him to have supper with you all at the Families’ Hostel. And during the meal Brigadier Brindley, who had actually stayed at the Ridders’ house, told the story - probably for the five-hundredth time - of the missing diamonds.’

Miranda shivered in the warm spring sunlight. ‘And she had to sit there and listen to it!’ she said in a whisper.

‘Yes. It can’t have been very pleasant. But there was worse to come. He mentioned, didn’t he, that Frau Ridder had a physical defect, and added that of all things a physical defect was the one thing one did not forget?’

‘Yes,’ said Miranda. ‘But he was wrong. I forgot.’

‘You were only a child, and very frightened; so to you it was only an unimportant detail in a welter of horrible things. But I think that the ex-housekeeper thought that the Brigadier’s remark was aimed at her - remember, she had actually seen and spoken to him in the Ridders’ house! Supposing he had recognized her? She may even have thought that he told the story in order to surprise some reaction from her. I think that she must have decided then and there to take precautions against his denouncing her when she reached Berlin, and his talk of sleeping tablets gave her the opportunity.’

Miranda said: ‘Then it was Mademoiselle who killed him!’

‘I think so,’ said Simon, slowly. ‘You all told me that she and the Brigadier and Mrs Melville each took sleeping powders. But

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though a good many people saw the Brigadier and Mrs Melville take theirs, no one seems to have seen the governess take hers. My guess is that she put it in the hot milk that she gave to Lottie, to ensure that the child slept soundly.’

‘But - Friedel?’ said Miranda. ‘Why Friedel? There was no reason for that.’

That’s something else I don’t know yet,’ admitted Simon. ‘I think that it’s perfectly possible that she did kill Friedel, but that she killed her by mistake - and in mistake for someone else.’

‘Stella,’ whispered Miranda.

‘It could be. On the other hand - always supposing she did do it - she may have mistaken her for you.’

‘Me?’ Miranda’s face was suddenly white and startled. ‘But why me? You’re joking!’

‘You know, this doesn’t strike me as being a joking matter,’ observed Simon pensively.

‘But why me? It doesn’t make sense!’

‘I think you may have had something that she - or someone

- wanted. That ‘ Simon reached out and touched the charm

bracelet that encircled Miranda’s slim wrist: ‘The ankh. It was one of the items inside your doll, if you remember. I don’t suppose she realized that you had it until you drew attention to it yourself.’

Miranda stared at the little metal charm with a shrinking distaste. ‘But why should she want it?’

‘I don’t know. I’m not even sure that she did. It’s just a theory as yet. But I’m interested in that charm; because you weren’t wearing the bracelet when you arrived in Berlin. Or when I spoke to you that afternoon at the Families’ Hostel.’

Miranda wrinkled her brows. ‘I must have been! I always wear it. No … You’re right. I couldn’t make the catch work; it’s stiff. So I put it in my pocket.’

‘And someone noticed that you were not wearing it, and searched your room for it.’

‘How can you know that?’

‘I don’t. It’s just an idea. But since I knew that your room hadn’t

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been searched officially, I realized that you obviously had something that someone wanted badly. And having heard at least half a dozen versions of the Brigadier’s story, and its sequel, I made a guess at what it was.’

Miranda looked from the little metal charm to Simon’s face, and back again. ‘It can’t be true! Why try to kill me when it would be so much simpler to steal it?’

‘Perhaps it wasn’t so easy to steal?’ suggested Simon. ‘You’ve just told me that you always wear it. And possibly time was short.’

Miranda said: ‘No, you can’t be right. You’ve forgotten the coat. Friedel was wearing Stella’s coat.’

‘Yes, I know. But your coat is squirrel, isn’t it? By moonlight the difference in colouring would be negligible. And there’s another point that appears to have escaped general notice. Both you and Friedel had dark hair, but Mrs Melville is a blonde.’

Miranda said in a low voice: ‘Stella thought that someone had meant to kill her.’

‘I know she did. She was almost scared out of her wits, wasn’t she? I realized that. But it was better to let her go on being scared, in order to allow the murderer to think we were off on a false trail.’

‘Stella said that there was a reason - ‘ began Miranda and stopped.

Simon looked up quickly. ‘What’s that? What did she say?’

‘Very little,’ said Miranda slowly. ‘She said that she knew that someone had meant to kill her, and when I told her not to be silly and asked her if she knew of any reason why anyone should want to kill her she - she said “Yes”.’

‘Are you sure of that?’ demanded Simon.

‘Quite sure: she said it in a sort of whisper, as though she were talking to herself. Afterwards she said she hadn’t said anything of the sort; but she had - I heard her. And she was more than just frightened. She was terrified!’

Simon Lang said ‘Oh’ in a preoccupied voice, and remained silent for a moment or two, watching a thin spiral of smoke curling up from his cigarette, and presently Miranda said: ‘If it was

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Mademoiselle who killed the Brigadier and Friedel, then the case is over.’

‘That’s where you’re wrong. Because now Mademoiselle herself has been killed.’

‘I was forgetting that,’ said Miranda unhappily. She turned to stare out of the window and said abruptly: ‘Is it Eisa Marson?’

‘Now why should you say that?’ inquired Simon with an odd note in his voice.

Miranda turned to face him: ‘Because I saw her at the hostel the day we arrived, talking to Friedel in German. I wasn’t sure then, but I am now. It was Mrs Marson. And I saw her again in that Russian cemetery place. She had gone there to meet someone, hadn’t she?’

‘Yes,’ said Simon slowly. ‘She had. And for that reason it’s possible that Friedel was killed by someone who had no connection with the murder of Brigadier Brindley, and who killed her knowing quite well who she really was.’

‘Who was she?’ — Ť

‘She was Mrs Marson’s sister,’ said Simon surprisingly. ťtet

‘Her sisterď Miranda stared at him, open-mouthed. ‘How long have you known that? Did she tell you?’

‘Since yesterday. She told us everything. Elsa’s mother was French and her father German. They parted in 1938 and the mother took the younger child with her and resumed her maiden name. Elsa’s elder sister and brother remained in Germany with their father. When the war broke out the mother’s family supplied her with falsified identification papers that mentioned a French father, deceased, and got them away to England. The mother died in the last year of the war, and Eisa got a job as private secretary to the head of a firm of importers.